


Right Hand Recollections: Revelations of the Heart

by Dragonfire2lm



Series: Right Hand Recollections [1]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Blame my demi arse for liking these two so much, Canonical character death is mentioned but never shown, Demiromantic Right Hand Man, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Right Hand Man remembers the timelines, This evolved into Copperright as I wrote, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonfire2lm/pseuds/Dragonfire2lm
Summary: Right Hand Man could remember things that hadn't happened yet.He was, and wasn't, a cyborg.He was, and wasn't, dead in a dozen different ways.Reginald was, and wasn't, the leader of the Toppats.And Right was tired of the time travelling, Groundhog Day, bull crap his life had become.I had the idea of "What if RHM remembered the timelines instead of Henry?" and just had to put the idea into words. It evolved into a Copperright fic the more i worked on it. My first fic for the pairing.
Relationships: Reginald Copperbottom/Right Hand Man/Henry Stickmin
Series: Right Hand Recollections [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163750
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Right Hand Recollections: Revelations of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if there are any typos.

The drone of the airship engines was a familiar thing to the Right Hand Man as he lay awake in bed, his wide-brimmed top hat hanging off the bedpost. The lateness of the hour did nothing to ease the man into the land of dreams, indeed, he was still far too alert, his thoughts too noisy for sleep to claim him. For once, it wasn’t his years of training as a Toppat Enforcer that kept him awake.

He was plagued with worry.

It gnawed at him, strengthened by memories of things that had yet to come to pass. Of things that could _still_ happen, death in multiple ways and on repeat. His own death never phased him, he knew he would die as he lived, protecting the clan until his last breath. It was the death of one man in particular that ate away at him. Numerous deaths he knew had happened, even after Right himself had met his end.

He knew and he hated it.

He heaved himself upright with a sigh, half expecting to see the gleam of metal in the corner of his eyes and reminding himself that he was hale, hearty, and whole. No cybernetics.

_Yet._

Reaching out towards the wall, he fumbled for the light switch, and momentarily blinded himself as the overhead light blinked to life.

He groaned as he waited for his eyes to adjust. Clearing the spots from his vision, he got up and padded over to the small desk in the corner of the room.

His quarters were simple. A bed to sleep in, a wardrobe to store his clothes, a desk so he could work in peace, and a bookshelf he used to store the small amount of knickknacks and treasures he’d accumulated during his time in the clan.

Sliding into the rickety old desk chair, he grabbed the notebook sitting near the top corner of the desk and a pen from the “Big Banana” coffee mug he used as a pen holder. Opening the book to the most recent page, he checked over his notes.

> _I forgot how much of a bastard Terrence is. Just seeing his ugly mug makes me want to punch his lights out, but I can’t risk Reg not becoming the leader. It is tempting though._
> 
> _Got “upgraded” again, that’s the fifth time I’ve gone through this._
> 
> _Dunno if Henry’s an idiot or genius, half the time he kills himself and the other half he kills everyone else._
> 
> _Really starting to hate those CCC blokes. Bit too trigger happy._
> 
> _I do not get paid enough to deal with this crap. But I put up with it, for the Toppats, for Reg. Seriously, who just goes and steals an entire rocket?_
> 
> _One good thing about being in prison is that I get to sit back and watch the show, Reg and I even share a cell._

He added a new entry.

> _Having Henry be a competent leader would’ve been nice. Might’ve even respected him a bit, you know, if he hadn’t killed me, my boss, and the rest of the clan multiple times in a dozen different ways._

Right set the pen down, staring at the page. It seemed that this cycle of repetition was endless. Wake up with Terrence as Chief and the clan being run into the ground, die several years down the line, or live just long to see the clan off in safe hands.

And it all revolved _Henry_.

The thought made his blood boil and he exhaled sharply as he pushed the indignation and fury aside in an effort to focus. Here he was, years, _lifetimes_ of experiences under his belt but he couldn’t act on it. Not when he had a duty to the clan.

He’d sooner jump off the airship than leave Reginald by himself. Right steadfastly ignored the other feelings wrapped up in _that_ thought, it wasn’t his place. Reginald was _destined_ to become Chief, to lead the clan into a new golden age. It was his duty as an Enforcer to protect the high-ranking members of the clan, and he had been made Reginald’s Right Hand _minutes_ after denouncing Terrence.

He ran a hand through his hair, idly wondering if he should grow it out this time or keep it cut short. Staring at his notes didn’t provide any further insight to his situation, nor magically offer a solution.

 _Be a hell of a lot simpler if I could talk to Reg about it._ He thought and blinked.

What was stopping him? What was stopping him from doing _anything?_ Even if Reg didn’t believe him, he’d certainly play along and humour Right. Even passing off the situation as a side affect of his Sands of Time was believable enough since Right had no idea what was causing this in the first place.

For all he knew, it could be his Reference reacting to something, he wouldn’t know. Hadn’t used the thing in years because no one else _had_ one and it would be dishonourable to use it otherwise.

He glanced up at the clock mounted on the wall by the door and grimaced at the early hour it displayed. It would be some time before anyone was awake, let alone an early bird like Reginald.

With another sigh, Right put his pen and book back where he found them and stood up to head back to bed.

The door to his quarters opened with a _hiss_ and he turned around, wide-eyed as a bleary-eyed Reginald walked in, still in his sleepwear.

“Uh, somethin’ wrong Reg?” Right asked.

“I was about to ask you the same question,” Reginald replied, groggy. “It’s 3am, what are you still doing up?”

“Can’t sleep.” He replied honestly with a shrug.

Reginald peered at him for a moment.

“If something’s bothering you, you can always tell me.”

“I know Reg, not now though, go back to bed,” Right waved him off. “I’ll tell you in the morning over breakfast.”

“Hm… I’ll hold you to that.” Reginald looked at him sceptically before leaving the room to return to his own quarters.

Right stumbled back and sat on his bed, sagging as he rested his head in his hands.

What was he going to tell him? How was he going to tell him? He spared a glance over at the notebook.

“Screw it.” He muttered.

Reginald had unknowingly forced his hand and backed him into a corner. He almost preferred this, having the decision to share his concerns be out of his hands was like ripping off a band-aid, quick and to the point.

He spent the rest of the early hours of the morning both dreading and anticipating the conversation.

* * *

Right felt far more alert than he should be as he shambled into the airship kitchen several hours later. He’d chucked on his usual dress shirt, pants, and boots before heading out the door, dropping his hat on his head on the way out. He felt perfectly fine and like absolute garbage at the same time but that was more due to the lack of sleep if anything.

He saw Reginald in the middle of cooking some scrambled eggs on the oven grill.

“Mornin’” he grunted, attempting to walk past him to fix up his own food only for Reginald to hold out an arm to stop him.

Right raised a brow at him.

“ _You_ go take seat, I’m making breakfast for you today,” Reginald stated firmly, pointing the spatula he held at Right threateningly. “You look exhausted Right.”

Reginald was in one of _those_ moods. The kind where he got into a snit over Right not taking of himself (like he could talk, Reginald’s workaholic tendencies frankly _scared_ Right some days) and fussed over him until he was satisfied Right wasn’t going to keel over. Right preferred to do things himself, at least when it came to the little things, but he understood where Reginald was coming from.

He’d done the exact same thing for him after all.

He sighed and smiled slightly. “Alright, thanks Reg.”

He didn’t have to wait long, Reginald brought him a plate of scrambled eggs on toast and sat beside him at an empty table at the back of the cafeteria moments later.

“So, what had you up so late last night?” Reginald asked as he nursed a cup of coffee, picking at his own plate of toast. “Did you even get any sleep?”

“It’s complicated…” Right began. “And no, didn’t get a wink of sleep, not that it matters. I’ve worked under worse conditions.”

“How complicated? Is it something to do with the clan?”

 _Here goes_. Right thought, mentally preparing himself for the worst. “It’s complicated ‘cause been I’ve been stuck reliving the past decade or so over an’ over. I’ve died an’ woke up back when Terrence was still chief with the memories of what happened as well as what happened after I croaked.”

Reginald was staring at him, expression unreadable yet Right could practically see the gears turning in his head. He took it as a god sign and pressed forward.

“You’ve died, the clan’s gone up in smoke, or we’ve had our stuff stolen and rarely do things ever go our way,” Right stated. “Seems like the universe likes taking the mick out of us. We’re usually brought down by one bloke.”

“ _I’m sorry?_ A single person destroys the Toppat Clan?” Reginald asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, guy by the name of Henry Stickmin…” Right growled, glaring at his breakfast. “Can’t tip Terrence off when I get sent back, but after that…. I’m your Right Hand Reg, _that’s_ my job. Not this time travelling bull crap…”

“I’m sick an’ tired of it.” Right admitted, sighing.

Reginald made a noise in sympathy. Silence fell between them as Right ate his breakfast and Reginald was staring into his morning coffee, thinking.

“You know…” Reginald said after a while and Right looked over at him, fork sticking out of his mouth. “why not make it your job?”

Right set his utensils down on his plate, looking curious. “How so?”

“If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t give a damn about remaining consistent, I’d do whatever it takes to change the future for the benefit of the clan.”

“Even if it meant you’d never become chief?” Right asked.

Reginald nodded sagely. “Even then, you know how important the clan is to me. And truth be told, I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for you, to bear the burden on not only your own demise but those of your allies as well. If it were me in your situation… I don’t believe I’d be nearly as calm…”

“You bein’ here helps with that,” Right said. “Knowing that you’re alive here an’ now, that it all wasn’t for nothin’… That keeps me going even in the worst of it.”

“In that case, we need to devise a way for you to inform me about this repeating life of yours every time you’re sent back,” Reginald decided. “It would certainly set my mind at ease knowing you won’t be dealing with this alone.”

“I have a book I keep notes in, more like a journal of sorts,” Right said. “Found it on my desk the first time I got sent back.”

“Anything else?”

“No, just the book. No idea where it came from.”

“Do you mind if I borrowed it?” Reginald asked.

Right shrugged as he shoved another mouthful of eggs and toast into his maw. “Go ‘head.”

* * *

The government attack on the airship happened like clockwork. Henry came crashing through the windshield in a big plastic ball. _This time_ , they were prepared with the clan on alert and weapons at the ready. Reginald had cleared the bridge ahead of time and holed himself up in his quarters. Right refused to back down and had waited to see where Henry would appear. He smirked and stood tall.

“Why don’ you ditch your little hamster ball an’ face me yourself?” He drawled, weapon at the ready.

Across from him, Henry Stickmin pressed a button on the controller he held, and Right blinked as a large tube appeared on the front of the ball and dived out of the way of the green laser that fired from it.

He glanced to see Henry was gone and sighed in exasperation.

“Bloody idiot…” he grumbled and grabbed the communicator clipped to his pants. “The Intruder’s been dealt with Reg. The bridge has sustained heavy damage though.”

Reginald replied moments later. _“Round up a repair crew and I’ll see to getting the ship to one of our hangars.”_

“Got it.” Right replied and left the bridge in search of Slice, knowing he would have the right people and resources ready to begin the repairs as soon as they landed.

* * *

It was as if his talk with Reginald had opened his eyes to the possibilities he now had. In the timelines that followed, Reginald had read his notes and the letter the chief had left for himself and worked with Right to use the information to the clan’s advantage. The schemes the man would concoct were a highlight of Right’s week.

Some things couldn’t be completely altered, as evident by Right’s cybernetic enhancements once more being the only thing that kept him alive after he’d tried to track Henry down and lost in ensuing fight ( _again_ , he was really starting to hate the absurd amount of luck Stickmin had), and Reginald missing a hat.

Right remembered the events that followed all well and upon hearing Reginald give the order to mobilise in preparation for an attack on The Wall, Right unplugged himself from the charging station installed by his bed and got up to retrieve a long, dark red coat from his wardrobe. It was something he’d started wearing whenever he got “upgraded”, the coat was from his old days before he’d even been assigned to the airship division, before he known as Right Hand Man.

He donned it now because his cybernetics were still new and fresh, still somewhat sensitive to the chill in the nigh air permeating the airship and his new internal heating systems hadn’t quite adjusted yet. The coat also came in handy as place to the little tools and gadgets he or Reginald often needed when out on the mission. He checked the pockets on the inside of the coat and felt a sliver of nervousness and a hint of confidence at the two small boxes tucked away within the confines of his coat.

If things were going to go the way he thought, he wanted something good to come of this. Even if that good was only temporary. He huffed as the left side of his vision was consumed by a blinking notification that he hadn’t finished charging and dismissed it with a roll of his eyes.

He could worry about that later, for know he had to stop Reginald from making as poor decision and dooming them all.

So Right headed towards the bridge.

The bridge was empty save for Reginald at the ship’s controls, everyone else having left to follow orders. Reginald turned around in the pilot’s seat as he heard him approach. “You should be resting Right. I can handle this little rescue operation.”

“I just need to know what you’re planning,” Right said, coming up to stand beside Reginald and resting a hand on the back of the chair. “You read the notes, I don’t want a repeat of _that_ incident.”

“We can just take more precautions, with the information we have, taking out Henry won’t be an issue-”

Right was struck by a bolt of fear at the idea. It was rare that he was genuinely afraid, even rarer since his life had been put on repeat for several decades now, but there were some things that stuck with him. _Things_ like the sight of Reginald pinned to the wall of the bridge, dead in the wreckage of his life’s work. Right had died that time somehow just knowing it was the end of the Toppats and embracing death with the knowledge he’d be sent back.

The knowledge of what happened he perished had haunted him for days afterwards. It compounded on his bruised ego, the sensation that he was nothing more than a _joke_ , a punching bag for the universe twisted sense of humour, and he bought Reginald and the rest of the Toppats down with him.

_Never again._

“ _Please_ Reg, _don’t_ , don’t make me go through that again…” Right cut in. He kept his voice firm and looked away, pulling his hat down to hide his face further. “…I know you don’t like him, but I’m not havin’ that happen twice! ‘Specially since you know it’ll happen if you throw him overboard.”

He heard the squeak of leather as Reginald got up, the quiet sound of his shoes on the carpet as he walked around the chair to face the enforcer. A gloved hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder.

Right stared at the floor. It was cowardly of him yes, but it was better for to him hide when his mask of professionalism was so close to breaking. As good as his poker face was, Reginald would see through it.

Reginald would always be the chief to him, Right was his Enforcer, his Right Hand Man, and that was the be all, end all of it.

“Right,” Reginald said, the former leader’s concern making Right sigh in exasperation and embarrassment. “I assure you I won’t let anything like that happen.”

“Then don’ let your bitterness towards Henry influence your decisions.” Right grumbled. “If I can manage that, then so can you.”

Reginald stepped back. “Yes, I… I suppose I’ve been a bit single minded as of late haven’t I?”

Right sighed and finally looked up to see Reginald was worried, wringing his hands together, and seeing just how much of a toll this had on Right.

He sighed and removed his hat, holding it to his chest with one hand while the other reached into his coat to pull out one of the two boxes. “Look, I may not be the best at getting’ the point across, but I worry about you a lot Reg, I care about you. More than I rightly should given our respective jobs…” he hastily shoved the box into Reginald’s hands. “Ah to hell with it. Here, open it. You’ll see what I mean…”

Reginald quirked an eyebrow in curiosity as he opened the box. The former leader blinked in stunned silence at the light pink felt rose that lay inside.

“I know you like all those traditions the clan had throughout history, so I uh… made this for you… ‘cause I like you,” Right explained as Reginald gingerly picked up the fake rose and turned it over, revealing it was glued to a little gold pin. “It was tradition, back in the renaissance era or somethin’, to give someone in the clan a rose they could pin to their hat if you were interested in ‘em, romantically I mean. Pink ones were for _confessin’_ that you were interested.”

Right continued, looking off to the side, rambling. “S’lright if you don’t feel the same, don’t even know if you like blokes, it’s jus’ that when I heard the announcement that we were headin’ to The Wall, I knew I had to talk you down from chuckin’ Henry off the ship…” he rubbed the back of his neck as he put his hat back on. “An’ failin’ that, thought I might try my luck with… somethin’ else.”

“ _Right_.” Reginald commanded and Right turned his head to look at him. Reginald’s featured softened into something gentle, and Right was taken aback when the taller man pulled him into a hug.

“You _never_ have to worry about professionalism or where we stand in the clan. Do you hear me?” Reginald’s voice was thick with barely restrained emotion. “I _adore_ you, you absolute fool…”

“Oh…” was all Right could say and timidly reached his arms around to hug Reginald back. This was new, and exhilarating, and _terrifying_ all at once.

Eventually, Reginald pulled away and Right was left a quiet, elated mess of a man as Reginald cleared his throat to get his attention.

“Do you have one of these for yourself?” he quietly asked, holding up the rose and Right sheepishly pulled out the other box from his coat pocket.

“The one I gave you was the second attempt of makin’ one, kinda botched up the first one.” he admitted, opening the box to reveal a felt rose that had several crooked or off-centre petals.

Reginald cracked a smile, almost giggling as he swiped the crooked rose and pinned it to his hat.

“Oi!”

Reginald only laughed. “Hold still and let me pin the other one on you.”

Right huffed but let him pin the decent looking rose to the side of his hat. Reginald admired his handiwork with a satisfied grin.

“Hm yes, quite dashing if I do say so,” he said as he reached up to adjust his own pin with a fond smile. “…I never thought you were interested. I was certain I was giving off the right signals…”

“I’m a bit dense when it comes to this sort of stuff Reg.” the cyborg muttered and straightened up. “We can talk about this later, we got an idiot to rescue…”

“Ah yes, The Wall,” Reginald remembered and headed back to the airship controls. “I promise I won’t throw Henry overboard, go rest, _please?_ ”

Right cracked a warm smile, emotions practically bubbling to the surface. “Alright I’m goin’.”

Right Hand Man walked back to his room feeling lighter than he had in years, a giddy veil mixed with relief and belonging had settled around him and he welcomed it.

**Author's Note:**

> The roses are a headcanon I came up with.
> 
> Toppat Clan members who are dating have a fake rose (made of felt, silk or some other material, whatever’s on hand really) pinned to their hat. It’s a really old tradition.
> 
> Pink rose: Indication of a new relationship. Given to another Toppat as a sign of romantic love and commitment.
> 
> Red rose: If the relationship makes it through it’s first year, the couple exchange red roses to replace the pink ones. Red rose are a sign that the relationship is a long-term one or has lasted for a significant amount of time.
> 
> White roses: Worn by married couples within the clan and given the same level of importance as wedding rings.
> 
> Clan members may add more personal touches to this tradition, like personal symbols that represent their significant other, or pride pins.
> 
> Doing a tumblr ask blog based on this fic. Come say hi.  
> https://askrighthandrecollections.tumblr.com/


End file.
